Yep, it's a Halloween costume story. Sorry for falling into well-established tropes, but I hope the timing is right and you enjoy! Jeff looked through the packaging again. There is no way this was all that was supposed to be included, the guy at the shop had obviously ripped him off. He had been invited to a costume party, and in typical college student style, he'd waited until about 3 hours before the party to actually find something to wear. In a panic, he searched the internet for top quality costumes available in his college town. It wasn't a big town, options were limited to say the least. But still he'd found a small little hole in the wall shop that had a few 5 star reviews online, so he'd hopped in his car and booked it to the shop. He wasn't disappointed; inside was an assortment of everything from superheroes, to pirates, to every monster that had ever graced a movie screen. Jeff was a bit of a nerd. Well, that was putting it lightly, he was 5 foot nothing, and weighed maybe a buck thirty soaking wet if you used heavy water. He wasn't socially that proficient, and had spent most of his High School and now college career hunched over a D&D table, rolling die, playing the strong hero, and basically living out everything he wasn't in real life. It was no surprise he'd found himself in the fantasy section, filing through various knights, knaves, peasants. Then he saw it! A very convincing barbarian costume. He grabbed for it as childhood memories of He-Man came rushing in. He'd always wanted to be He-Man, every boy his age had wanted to. His heart rose a brief moment before he realized looking at the model pictured on the box, that he did not have anywhere near the body to pull it off. He put the costume in its box back down, a little dejected. "Why don't you get that one? You want it, it's written all over your face!" Jeff spun around and found the owner of the voice behind him, an older gentleman with a white modest beard that just hid most of a name tag on his shirt that Jeff could discern must have said "owner". "Are you kidding? There's no way I could pull that off. Look at me," he gestured down to his puny frame, "no one wants to see this in a skimpy costume. I'd never do it justice," he smiled at the man, still wistfully longing to be able to actually wear and do the costume some justice. "Oh! No, you don't understand, those muscles, the hair, all of it is included in the costume. You'll look fantastic in it!" "What is it, like some sort of padded shirt or something?" Jeff picked the box back up and scrutinized the model on the front. He really couldn't make out where the muscle padding ended and the skin of the model began. "Sure, padding, yep, that's exactly what it is," the old man gave a reassuring smile. And somehow, Jeff had believed him, bought the costume, ran home to change, and now found himself sitting on his bed staring at the package with a picture of a bodybuilder of a model in barbarian shorts with bracers, long hair, boots; the works and only a pair of what he only could describe as "fur briefs" to show for it. He picked up the brown leather "tighty whities", holding them up at arm's length to inspect them. They looked like underwear, except for the thick blond-ish fur that was pluming up out of the waistband and the leg holes. "Ok...", Jeff thought to himself, "I need a saving throw if I'm going to make the party." He just stared at the fancy loin cloth. "Maybe I can pair it with something, get some sort of mashed together costume." He gave out a hopeless sigh. He had to admit the idea sounded completely stupid. "Never say die...just put it on, and let's see how bad it actually is. It won't be that bad. Sure, it won't be that bad, and something to put on with it will present itself." Jeff really didn't believe himself, but with 2 hours before the party, there really wasn't an option. Jeff peeled his shirt off his thin, pale body, catching a glimpse of himself in his mirror in the corner of his room. His lanky form and shaggy black hair adding to the general air of "unkempt" that summed him up. He threw his shirt in the other corner of the room, along with his jeans he'd just removed. His own underwear was the final piece of clothing gone. As he reached for the leather briefs, he averted his eyes from the skinny, unimpressive figure in the mirror. "Alright, here goes nothing," he muttered to no one else in the room as he closed his eyes and yanked the briefs on, the waist being far to big to fit his own, and the leg holes looking like they were made for a man with legs so big he'd have trouble walking. 'Roomy' was the vastly inadequate word to describe his feeling in the very oversized leather garment. He stood there, trying desperately to hold the briefs up, and squeezed one of his eyes half open, trying to soften the blow of what he knew he'd see in the mirror. His gaze was met with a very small, pasty, unimpressive guy in oversized fur underwear. "Oh no, no, no, no...", Jeff let the briefs go in desperation. He'd expected the cloth to just fall down when he let go, but he noticed as he dropped his hands, the briefs stayed in place. And there was something else, a feeling of 'fullness' around the top part of his thighs, almost like they were touching. Jeff adjusted his stance a bit wider, and looked down. He almost fainted when he saw his quads, and calves, already noticeably bigger than they were before. He stared in awe as he felt veins actually creeping up under the skin, showing in the stark relief of the definition of his legs. Adjusting his stance wider to accommodate the growth, his legs felt like they'd been inflated with way too much air, but as he reached down and felt, they were hard as rocks....and getting....harrier? He looked closer, and saw fine blond hairs, lighter than those on the briefs poking through the paper thin skin of the hard muscle on his legs. He reached down again, and was startled - as he reached, his arm, particularly his bicep, brushed against something. Something hard. He looked down and realized not only had his arms grown to bodybuilder size while he had been inspecting his legs, his chest had too. He tried moving his arms in front of his body, testing the range of motion with his newfound brawn. He found he could no longer reach across the front of his body, his muscles were just too massive, his arms and chest kept fighting for space. He raised his right arm, and tried touching his left shoulder ("Oh my god, it's a bowling ball!"), getting about three quarters of the way across before his chest prevented any more motion, bunching up with a thick valley ranging from his neck down through his abs, only slightly obscured by the blond pelt his body was receiving. He turned his head and saw something in his field of vision. Jeff realized it was his traps - raising up to just below his jaw from the mountains he now called shoulders. He looked in disbelief down at himself, having to bend over slightly to get past the view of his chest. Calves like diamonds as he flexed them. Quads that were huge, every head of the muscle visible beneath the blond fur. "Well, I'm going to be walking different from now on." he thought to himself. Cobble stone abs led up to the most massive chest he'd ever seen. He felt so heavy, he grinned at his transformation. Jeff was reveling in the sheer mass of his body, he'd never felt what it was to be 'big' in any sense of the word, and now he was bigger than any bodybuilder. Just moving brought a whole new range of experiences. Muscles plump with definition. He looked briefly in the mirror and held his arms straight up above his head as if he was raising a sword. His body was in stark relief as his biceps and triceps gave way to shoulders that could carry the world to armpits that were deeper than he'd seen formed by the wings of his lats as his back became the envy of any pro bodybuilder - his pecs still plump and defined even with his arms stretched up there was still a good inch of shelf underneath them. Cobblestone abs with blond hair leading into the waistband of the loin cloth, hinting at what might lie underneath. Quads blossoming out of their confining holes in the briefs. "By the power of GraySKuLL I HAVe The POWERRRR!", as he yelled his voice dropped a good two octaves as his adam's apple grew. Jeff laughed, he really did look like He-Man come to life. Only maybe bigger. He chuckled to himself and let his arms, now covered like the rest of him by blond hair, drop to his side - as much as they could. His triceps hit his lats, another new, exciting sensation of muscle on muscle, and Jeff realized now he'd always have his arms hanging at a 30 degree angle away from his body, his powerful back flaring out behind him like a gargantuan cobra's hood. Jeff finally got a good look at himself in his mirror. Any trace of the old him was gone, except maybe in some of the facial features. His shaggy hair was now a long flowing blond mane, the briefs were no longer large on him, and actually looked like they were a bit small on the behemoth bodybuilder lurking in the mirror. Jeff turned around - he glutes were globes of muscle. "Guess I've got squatter's ass now," the thought thickly moved through his mind. His muscles were massive. he tested flexing as best he could, his mind overloaded with the new feelings of his added muscle. He was big, huge. More importantly he felt huge. As he was flexing his bicep, admiring the vein popping out on its way down his massive forearms, he noticed his skin was darker. Like he'd spent a few days at the beach. His skin was thicker, tough, though still thin enough to show off his musculature. He had a dopey grin as he raised a hand and felt the cleft beneath his chest, losing a good portion of his hand under the massive pecs. He felt something else start to enlarge. He let out a guttural, deep, primitive, dull laugh as he glanced downward, noticing a fullness in the briefs being pushed out by the girth of his thighs, and actually slightly distending the front of the briefs. He'd have to examine that further after the change completed. In the last few seconds, his eyes changed to a steel blue, and something else. He tried to find the right words, but words weren't his strong suit now. In fact, as the Barbarian settled into reality, Jeff couldn't really concentrate on much at all. He heard a noise, a beeping of some sort, and traced it to a small rectangular thing on a table in the room. He looked at the strange glowing thing across the room from him, making out the letters C-H-A-R-L-I-E on it. Jeff would know that his friend Charlie would be calling him to arrange for a ride to the party, but a war was going on in his head as thoughts slowed and Jeff drained away. The Barbarian that was left just looked at the strange magic device. He walked over to it, his massive thighs rolling against each other as the Barbarian lumbered. He had to bend down from his massive six foot seven height to see over his pecs to look at the glow closer. He scrunched up his face, the short blond beard and mustache on the former college student forming a quizzical look at the strange markings on the screen, not able to comprehend their meaning. "Jeff" wasn't in control anymore, but Ja'Carr the Barbarian warrior was. Ja'Carr reached out a huge arm and touched the glowing, flashing thing, which caused the glow to go black. A booming bass voice rang out "I guess that wasn't important, heh." He looked as his massive arm, veins wrangling their way up his forearm, across the bicep and up to his huge cannon ball shoulders. He laughed out loud again, his voice so deep it seemed to make the windows of the room rattle. He didn't know why this body made him so happy. He couldn't quite get rid of the feeling that this wasn't his body, but he just crunched his abs, flexed every muscle in his legs and screamed into a most muscular in front of the mirror, muscles swelling, veins about to burst, relishing in the power and strength he had, the low reverb of the battle cry carrying though his apartment building and out into his neighborhood.

It had been a long day, slaving away in my cubicle. The drudgery of routine had long since taken over any type of excitement I may have ever had about my job. I was middle age, out of shape, and quite frankly broken. And as I completed the arduous tasks put to me by my boss, and drove through the rush hour traffic back to my apartment, I had ample time to reflect on my station in life. I pulled up to my complex, drug myself out of the car, and nearly tripped on a box that had been unceremoniously been tossed near my front door. I opened my door, and kicked the box in. I went through the routine of cleaning, cooking, eating, and doing my rituals after work, when I noticed the box on the floor where I'd kicked it. Walking over to it, I noticed that there was no identifying label on it. It wasn't addressed to anyone, and apparently hadn't come from anyone. Curious, I opened the box somewhat hesitantly. I dunno, maybe I thought something was going to jump out at me. No movement, so I took the top completely off and found what I thought was a blue, shiny tank top resting at the bottom. I'm by no means athletic, too many hours of a wasted youth in front of video games rather than doing anything outside. Not fat, really, just not 'muscular', or anyone that could in any way fill out a tank top. I pulled it out, and realized, it wasn't just a tank top, it appeared to be a onesie. Maybe a wrestling singlet? Ok, now I know somebody screwed up - I have absolutely no business using or wearing this. I turn it over in my hands, the fabric must be that spandex / lycra stuff. It's shiny, and looks like it's supposed to hug against whoever's wearing it. It's got some white inlays on the side - made well, looks durable. It looks like it's an XL, probably would fit someone 220-225 lbs or so, maybe heavier. I look down at my 165 lb body and laugh slightly to myself. Looking back at the singlet, on the right leg is a little white square with a red logo of what looks like a stickman with his hands raised. The word "Brute" under the logo on the tag. "Yep," I think, "you'd have to be one to wear one of these things." Holding the singlet, I thought of those pictures I'd seen of college athletes completely going at it. There was something of a primal urge to dominate about them. I guess I could see that. I looked closer at it, then back at myself in the mirror I'd walked over to my brown eyes nestled under a unruly mop of black hair that sort of defied any meaningful style. Why not. I stripped down to nothing and realized that besides being painfully pale, having no muscle to even mention, and looking as far from an athlete as one can be, I had no idea how to put one of these things on. No zippers or anything, so I guess it's in through the neck. I stepped in and put each leg through the appropriate holes, then without much effort draped the straps over my nonexistent shoulders. It was laughable, really. My legs didn't even come close to touching the holes that were meant to grab them, and if I didn't hold the straps on my shoulders, they'd fall down my arms. The neck line was so large, it draped past my smooth 'chest' and would've exposed my abs if I'd had any. I looked like a little kid in their big brother's wrestling gear. It really reminded me of when I'd tried on my first singlet - my big brother's in fact. I couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 and was really curious about the sport. He was a high school wrestler back then, very muscular. Someone I looked up to. I loved his legs. They were his secret weapon. He really overtrained legs, something his coach loved because of the strength, but his quads got so big he had to customize his singlets, the leg holes were just too small. I widened my stance in front of the mirror, shifting my weight. I smiled to myself. My legs were bigger than his. My singlet digging into my deeply etched quads, every muscle standing at stark relief. Square stances were always hard for me, but they were my favorite. Fake out whoever I was rolling with at the time, let them think they have the advantage, then Boom! - Quads sprung, and immediate take down. Plus, with legs this big, it was almost impossible to get my lead leg out without a waddle to adjust my hip position that threw me off balance. I reached down to touch my legs, and felt the singlet rub against my abs. I stood straight and saw my 8 pack, in stark relief, like the singlet had been vacuum packed on my torso. God I'd worked to train those. I wasn't gonna let anybody get backs on me! Had to get my bridges just right, and the secret was always a tight core. Hours doing bridges, planks, anything to build a bulletproof torso. Dieted like hell to get 'em, but damn did it pay off. I rolled my bowling ball shoulders, trying to get some room from the straps clinging onto my traps, moving my huge bi's off my lats, the singlet almost digging into the cobra hood that was my back. I raised an arm and flexed a 21 inch bicep in the mirror, a cocky grin on my face. Coach always said my pecs and my arms were going to kill my growth allowance. I never gave a fuck though. The size is what was made my opponents run screaming. Hell, they'd basically stick themselves to the mat if I just glanced at them. Sure I'd bare my teeth and give a guttural growl, but that's beside the point. I looked at the veins snaking their way down my massive forearms and up my bi's and tri's to my shoulders. Faces of opponents those arms had wrapped up and took down flashed past. Even guys that had more mat time than I did couldn't get past my sheer strength. Those shoulders gave me more inner control than any opponent I ever faced. My pecs strained against the fabric of the singlet. A deep trench between them. They were so big, the singlet actually folded up underneath them, just accentuating my immense size. I flexed a most muscular, the blood rushing into the muscle, pumping the veins larger, and let out a primal roar, my deep voice echoing through my room. I gave a deep dumb laugh. It was something I'd always done at staging at any tournament. Scared the hell outta anyone around me. I mean after all I was a monster. Not a shred of fat or water on me, and nothing but dense, powerful, primal muscle. Holding the pose, feeling an almost orgasmic pump, I saw a blond glint on my chest. Damn, the hair was already growing back - I'd never get through the groom check like that. It'd had been a problem since high school when I started juicing - my transition from human to mutant beast. Sophomore year, it'd gotten so bad it earned me the name "Beast". I liked that though. Primal, masculine...dominating. My 10 in cock stirred to life just thinking about controlling an opponent, toying with them, then using my raw strength to force them to the mat and make them submit - Holy shit I almost blew my load - God I love wrestling! I looked back, game face on, locking stares with the blue-eyed blond hulk in the mirror. My deep tan and flawless skin popped agains the shiny blue of the singlet. I gave a deep growl, never breaking the penetrating gaze to my opponent: myself. This would be my last year wrestling for the college, but maybe I could go on and trade in my singlet for posing trunks. I was almost bigger than most of those bodybuilders anyway. and the thought of getting even bigger - I flexed my lats, arms and chest again and watched the raw power in the striations - transitioning from beast to full on mutant. Oh yeah. That was me. Pure masculine muscle and raw power. I noticed the clock - 1 hour before practice. Better get to the gym, coach does not like to be kept waiting. I flexed a double bi in the mirror, lats straining against the blue fabric. The Brute logo stretched out against my quads. "Damn right I fuckin am!", I gave a knowing grin at the stud in the mirror and strutted off to the gym.

The Edge - Part 7 - Super Swoldier “It wasn't till i was about 9 when I saw my first muscle magazine - at that moment I was blown away at the muscle I saw on these people. I wondered to myself, "I wanna look like that someday" so not soon after I read my first magazine I started to lift weights.” – Jeff Long It was six weeks before the show. I’m not quite sure what Colin was doing, the bodybuilding stuff still didn’t make sense to me. I still wasn’t used to Colin’s “intrusions” into my life - it was to the point now that passing by a mirror and flexing was enough for him to surface. He of course showed up at meal times, gym times, and various other times that I’m assuming had to do with contest prep, usually accompanied by Eric. “I don’t want to do this,” Eddie and I were sharing a rare moment when we both were “us” for the moment. We were huge now, and really vascular thanks to the show prep. We’d given up on shirts, they just wouldn’t fit right. Either they fit the shoulder/chest area and looked like a tent on our tiny waists, or they fit the waist, and our shoulder and arms would burst the seams. When we went out, it was pretty much tank tops as a rule. “Neither do I,” we both agreed wholly on that point, “but I don’t think ‘we’ have much choice. It’s not like we’ll be up there anyway. Eric and Colin will be up there. Probably enjoying themselves." “So what happens if we win?” “You mean ‘when’ we win, right? I mean look at us, there’s not many guys out there that look like us.” “I’m serious, dude. I mean if we win and get sponsorships, do Eric and Colin come out to play permanently? It’s not like you or I know how to pose or pull off the bodybuilding thing.” I looked down at my enormous arm, the large veins snaking their way across the engorged muscle. I had to admit, the prospect of being permanently turned into a mindless bulging sex-crazed bodybuilder didn’t really appeal to me. “I don’t know. I mean there’s worse things than having a body like this,” I gestured down to the enormous tank I’d become. We’d figured out that somehow sex was part of what made us “dumb bodybuilders”. Every time either of us looked at porn or got aroused at all, Eric and Colin would start coming out. Eventually, the normal sex stuff just morphed into bodybuilding. For some reason the two were linked for them. The real problem was that the road was becoming a two-way one. Anything, and I mean anything to do with any aspect of bodybuilding would turn into some sort of male dominance thing which would somehow end up in our cocks when “they” came out. We couldn’t quite tell which caused what. The lines were blurring, and “we” were getting lost in the shuffle. I traced the vein down my 24 inch left bicep with my right index finger, bouncing the muscle as I went. My cock stirred a little. Fuckin’ 24! I’d made it, and it’s gonna look so good for the show - oh no. It was too late. I could feel the change. As the threshold was crossed, my mind slowed down, changing gears. “You gotta problem with bodybuilders?” I heard the tone of my voice changing. The emptiness was sliding through my mind. The next six weeks, I was gonna fuckin’ attack the weights, and then dominate every pussy boy on that fuckin’ stage! “You know what this feels like, we’re basically fuckin’ gods bro.” “No, no, no, no!!” Eddie was doing his best to resist. But the bulge in his shorts was telling a different story. “I refuse to turn into that mindless freak!” I flexed a bi in his face. “C’mon bro! Let’s see yours, unless ya know I gotcha beat!" I felt a sneer as my lips curled up into a mocking smile. I tried to think of any science fact I could. It was a losing battle, nutrition information was coming up, “I’m fucking winning that show, bitch!” I saw my bicep flexed. The hanging tri. I needed to bring that up a bit before the show, he might get a few points on me there. I felt my pecs hanging on my chest. Fuck I loved that feeling. Just moving my arms a little made them jump as my bi’s brushed against my lats. Fuck! I love bodybuilding! This was a good size for the show, but I knew I had to get bigger for a national stage. Eric and I could fuckin' do it though. “No, I’m Eddie. I’m an engineering student,” his enormous hands went up to cover his face, biceps bunching and bulging as they went. He actually might be bigger than me, that fucker. “I’m an honor roll student,” his voice started changing tones. “I’m on the Dean’s List, I’ve won multiple scholast- scholar- school awards, I’m an In-gen-eer. I’m a student of...”, he trailed off, the jaw went slack. Over his hands, his brow scrunched up like he was trying to remember something, “I’m a student of the fuckin’ iron! I’m a muscle GOD!” He roared as Eric’s hands dropped from his face. I looked around, trying to remember what the fuck I had just been doin’. Fuck I hate it when I lose my liftin' skills. It's like I don't know nothin’ about liftin’ or anything important like that. It's like I completely blackout to bodybuilding. I become a real dumbass. “Fuck, bro, what were we talkin’ about?” Eric looked like he’d just woken up from a deep sleep. “Fuck if I know, bro? If it wasn’t about growin’ liftin’ or fuckin’ it wasn’t important.” He stretched himself out to his full height. He looked over his pecs down to his shorts, “Must’ve been bitchin', though, I’m boned to hell. Let’s go Lift!” ******* It was weird. I mean, it wasn’t like I wasn’t still me, even when I was Colin. I just was a lot dumber and fixated on being a bodybuilder and all things muscle. The problem was controlling it. The closer the show got, the more Eddie and I were Eric and Colin. Eric an Colin knew these bodies, Eddie and I didn’t. We still didn’t move quite right in them. It’s not hard to imagine, going from chicken legs to having to waddle to get your legs to move around each other so you could actually take more than a baby step. We looked weird and were really self-conscious unless Eric and Colin were around. After Eric and Colin had finished doing...whatever it was they do, and we were back to “us”, Eddie and I decided to go to the mall to try to find some new clothes more our style, less….showy than Eric and Colin liked. Something we could wear. We figured it would be best to try to preserve “us” for as long as we could. The changes were increasing. Literally, anytime either of us would think of muscle, bodybuilding, or anything remotely to do with flexing or something like that, we’d change. With both of us only wearing spandex (it’s the only thing that wouldn’t chafe) and tank tops, not thinking of muscle was becoming increasingly hard. We were at the food court after picking up some shirts and pants that would have to be altered to get over our hulking frame. Eddie had gone to the bathroom before we left, and I was sitting in my tank top at one of the tables trying desperately not to think of how strange this huge hulking body looked hunched over an invisible plate trying to not be noticed. A kid of about 10 passed by and you could tell by the look on his face, he’d never seen someone my size before. I still couldn't get used to the stares. I didn’t like them, but as Colin, I learned that I - he, loved the attention. The kid kept staring. I was really hoping he’d move on, but I could feel a hole being bored in my massive arm from his stare. I looked up and managed a friendly smile at the kid and went on about my inner sulking. The kid came over to me with his mouth agape. He looked up at me, and down into a figurine he had in his hand. I recognized it as one of the new super heroes that companies were always dreaming up to entice the next generation of kids to spend their parent’s money. I had to admit, though, the character was totally jacked. I giggled a dumb chuckle to myself - I was bigger though. I involuntarily flexed a bi and made the huge vein running across it jump. “Whoa!” the kid was taken aback, “you’re even bigger than Captain Ultra!” No, I can’t engage this kid. Don’t think about your pecs - heh, bigger than the Cap’s there. Don’t think about the quads on the toy - mine are so much bigger than that, it’ll look bitchin’ on stage. That figure isn’t even vascular. Fuck, if I wore something skin tight you’d see every vein in my shoulders arms and legs standing out. Don’t think about muscle. Don’t. Think about muscle. “You know it little bro!” I heard myself say and flexed my arm for the kid to see. “Cool!” a smile ran across his face, his eyes were as wide as dinner plates. I always love kids reactions to the muscle. They’re never quite sure how to act. “This took a lot of time to build up.”, I gave him a crab shot - my favorite pose - “You know when you’re older, you can start lifting weights too. If you do it long enough, I bet you could be even bigger than me!” A man had walked over by this time. An average guy, obviously didn't lift. Judging by the blond hair and green eyes, which looked just like the kid's, I guessed it was his dad. “C’mon Caleb, leave the man alone,” he grabbed his son by the hand and started walking away. I heard him mutter under his breath “I don’t know why anyone would want to do something that gross to themselves.” Huh? Gross? Fuck that, this isn’t gross, it’s manly you little bitch. I looked down and flexed my pecs. They were literally hanging out of the sides of my tank. A cocky smile went over my face. He just didn’t know what “this” felt like. I bet if he did, he’d have a different view. I sneezed. And I realized something... “You know, bro,” I called after him, “it’s a lotta work to look like this. It’s an art form - you should appreciate it. Your kid does.” He looked back I sneezed, covering my mouth with my right hand. I stood up. “I’m Colin. Nice to meet you,” I said, offering a handshake to the guy.

It's coming, promise. The whole story is sketched out, just have to find time to actually write it. (There actually is a "grand plan" of sorts. Just have a lot going on right now.) Thanks for the feedback!! Much appreciated!

The Edge - Part 6 - A Swoldier's Call “To feel strong, to walk amongst humans with a tremendous feeling of confidence and superiority is not at all wrong. The sense of superiority in bodily strength is borne out by the long history of mankind paying homage in folklore, song and poetry to strong men.” – Fred Hatfield I guess having someone else going through the same thing as me made it a bit easier to deal with. Even though when Eddie and I were "Eric" and "Colin", we just competed against each other, driving the other one to get even bigger. I'm still not sure if that made the situation better or worse. Except for the gym, where no one had known us before we turned into hulking behemoths, we'd kept a really low profile. Somehow we just couldn't get a cover story for how we'd managed to put on 130 lbs of muscle, each, overnight. As for the actual transformation, we'd come to the conclusion that it must have had something to do with Eddie's cold. Not that it made any logical sense, but a bodybuilder sneezed on him, he got a cold and changed into a bodybuilder, then gave me the cold and I'd changed. To be honest, we were kind of scared to go out and potentially spread the "disease". Colin and Eric didn’t care, though. I don’t think they really thought about what would happen if it spread. Colin really didn’t think period from what I could tell. It’s odd losing control of yourself like that. It’s not really that I’m not me anymore, but it’s just that all of my priorities shift around. Gym and my body come first. Second and third, really, too. It’s an urge, one I can’t ignore, that shuts out all the academic stuff that makes me, “me”. It’s not that Colin doesn’t want to think about those things, he literally can’t. The instinct for bodybuilding is way to strong, it just shuts out literally everything else. Then there’s all the knowledge that comes with building and having a professional bodybuilder’s body, I’m still not sure what all that came from, but when I am bodybuilding, it feels like that most natural thing I’ve ever experienced. My body, cumbersome, motion restricted, bulging in odd places, balanced weirdly, something I can’t control well, becomes natural to me. The muscles, the weight of them on me feels ‘right’, like I’m supposed to be like that. I am the ultimate male, and I must be like that. Once the urge has me, I can’t even conceive of being trapped in a small body like I used to be, big is the only way to go. The transformation into Colin really is like having the most passionate, wild sex you’ve ever had in your life. There’s nothing else, just the task at hand, and you’re driven with an intensity you can’t build from “normal, everyday, life”. I mean, in bed you’re still you, but you’ll do things during really really hot sex that you probably wouldn’t do out in public. I’d never go into a gym normally, but when the call hits, I don’t have a choice. It’s all I can think of, all my purpose is, all my body is built for, and I have to answer, Colin arrives, and I have to go. I guess it makes sense, though. Regardless off the differences between me and Colin, since the change, my brain has been somehow hardwired to equate sex with bodybuilding. It’s the one thing that unites us. I enjoy the workout more than the best lay I’ve ever had in my life. For a brief second, while the workout is at its most intense, I can take the enjoyment too. Then all too soon, the set’s over, and either I’m driven uncontrollably to the next set, or I regain my senses as the primal drive and Colin recedes until they need to come back out. This is my life now, I guess. It had been a couple of days since my transformation into the hulk, sans green coloring. Eddie and I were hurrying out of the gym in our usual demeanor after we “came to our senses” finishing the workout: eyes down, trying not to engage anyone, shuffling over our own quads. We still couldn't get the gait right, too much muscle on the legs to walk right. “Hold up a sec, guys!” Shit, someone had seen us. I turned around looking for the source of the voice as a gangly teen rushed up to us. He was dressed in an ill fitting oversized tank top that hung off him like a weird loose skin, a pair of what I thought were basketball shorts and I couldn't believe it: a neon green and black headband. "We're kinda in a hurry," I forced a smile to the kid as I tripped up over my quads and steadied myself. I - well Colin - had seen the kid just about every time we'd been in the gym. He was always lifting, a bit wrong on form for Colin's liking (how can you tell?), and actually looked to be getting scrawnier the more he worked out. "I was just wondering if you guys were competitors." He looked excited, a bit nervous maybe, to be talking to the huge imposing figures that my roommate and I had become. "Um.." Eddie and I exchanged a quick glance at each other under our simian brows. The transformation had left us looking more like hulked out cavemen in my estimation rather than competitors. "No, we just lift for um... Fun." The word kind of stuck in my throat. My still rather new deep bass voice not sounding quite right, rumbling the wrong way somewhere deep beneath my oversized pecs. "Oh wow! Really? I thought for sure you guys were competitors. Sorry, name's Jason. I'm trying to get big like you guys! It's a dream of mine, competition, you know, like that show coming up," he pointed over to a poster on the wall. The poster was for an upcoming local bodybuilding show. “National Qualifier” was plastered all over it, whatever that meant. I looked at the picture in the center with a huge bodybuilder in his suit on the stage doing a front lat spread (how did I know what that was?). I was bigger than him…now. For a second I wondered what it would be like to be up on that stage, flexing in front of all those people. It kind of repulsed me... at first. Eddie had lumbered over to where I was standing, transfixed at the poster. I couldn't help it. The idea really didn't appeal to me, but I couldn't shake it. I kept imagining myself being the one in the posers on the stage. I tried to clear my head, but the images kept coming back, stronger. "You guys gotta tell me your secret! How'd you get so big?" Jason was on edge, hanging on an answer that might unlock his desires for size. Trying to break the spell of the compulsion to compete that was building in me, I managed an answer, "We kinda just caught the iron bug, ya know. Kept with it and one day just looked like this." My eyes never left the poster, images of me, flexing, flashing through my mind. My voice was hollow, like there wasn't too much intellect flowing out of me. A few muscles involuntarily flexed along with the routine spinning through my head. It was weird, I couldn’t help myself. The more I saw what passed for the “example” of what should be in that show, the more I wanted to get up there and show them what a real man was like. I looked at the guy’s arms. Then I looked down at mine, the veins snaking their way across the biceps, the pump still fresh from the workout we’d just suffered through. I flexed it tentatively, watching the muscle jump up into a hard ball. Fuck, I was bigger than him, harder too. And he couldn't even fill out the posers properly! Ha! They'd have trouble finding a pouch large enough to contain me! I saw the crowd in front of me, cheering my alpha body, worshiping the perfection of male development. A burning started inside of me - I absolutely had to be on that stage. It was like I could feel the lights on me, my posers filled to the maximum, music pounding in my head, lost in a routine designed to show off every fuckin muscle and striation I had. I mean, why the fuck were Eric and I doin’ this if we weren’t gonna show off for the whole fuckin world to see. I looked down, bunched my chest and saw my pecs fighting for space on my torso, with nowhere to go they just pushed out, straining my tank top. A thread through the seem on my huge traps popped. I let out a deep guttural chuckle. Fuck yah, no one else had thickness like that. “Fuck, bro, we’re doin that fuckin show!” I looked over at Eddie with a dopey smile, holding my pose. “What?! You’re out of your mind. Why in the blue hell would I want to get up in front of all those people looking like…well, like this?” he gestured down to his vein covered, immensely bulging, chiseled bulk. “Bro, why the fuck wouldn’t you? Fuck, just think of it, showin all this shit off,” I flexed a double bi, the seams of my tank, this time down the sides, groaned with the flaring of my lats. I heard an audible gasp from Jason, that just edged me on, fuck yeah little guy, this is a real man. “Think of it, showin all those pussies that think they’re real men what a real fuckin alpha male looks like! I know you want to show off that fuckin chest, those arms, and fuck man, your quads don’t even fit in pants anymore.” I half-punched Eddie in his delt, he flexed it involuntarily. “Heh, it might be fun.” he looked down at his quads, and flexed them, testing them. “Gonna have to do more squats though,” he pulled up his workout shorts almost to his hip to show the whole leg, veins popping at every angle on the hard muscle. “Whatcha think bro?” he turned to me, quad flexed, hit a most muscular, sending his delts and traps into a deep relief. To finish it he stuck out his tongue, through a cocky big smile. He brought a meaty arm down and pulled up the bottom of his tank, exposing deep cut abs and obliques. I swear you could grate cheese on the guy. “Fuck yah! Sign me the fuck up!” Jason looked like he could probably cream his basketball shorts with the display Eric and I just gave him. Why not push him till he does. “Fuck yah!” I hit a most muscular back at Eric. We laughed a deep dopey laugh and strutted over to the counter, Jason, looking slightly red faced, hanging behind in tow. The little guy sitting at the desk looked scared. Fuck, I would be too if two gods like us walked up. I slammed a hand down on the counter, “We’re here to fuckin sign up for that!” I pointed over to the poster, “you’re fuckin lookin at the winners, little man!” Eric and I laughed and high fived. “Alphaaa!” our impossibly deep voices carried over the entire gym as we both yelled at each other, smiled and hit a crab pose, letting every vein on our chest and arms pop out. Most of the guys working out stopped to see what the loud noise was, turning our direction. Fuck yeah! Let em' look, I love showing off this alpha body. The little guy behind the counter just sort of looked at us, and put two forms in front of us. “Just fill that out and I’ll take your entry fee.” “I’m so going to that show,” I heard Jason say to himself as he walked carefully back to the locker room to clean up. Heh, this’ll be fun. We walked into the apartment. Somewhere on the drive home we’d come back to our senses. “What did we do again?” Eddie was still in shock. “I think we signed up for one of those bodybuilding shows,” I was still trying to process what happened after I saw the poster. “Um. Dude, we know less than nothing about those. What’re we supposed to do?” “_We_ don’t do anything. I think this is something Eric and Colin have down. I’m afraid we just may be along for the ride.” the panic started setting in to me.

I've got about 10 or so chapters sketched out in rough draft. Just have to put them all together in a meaningful story. It is leading somewhere, just have to figure out how to get there. Next one's coming soon.

The Edge - Part 5 - Swole Mates “I'd thought sexuality was instinctive or natural, but it's profoundly linked to inner security and cultural context.” – Tahar Ben Jelloun Eric and I fuckin strutted into that fuckin gym like we owned the fucker. Heh, we basically did, we were the biggest motherfuckers there. We'd stopped by the store to let me get some proper workout gear, stringer tank and some spandex workout shorts. Sure, it left everything on display, but fuck, it's about liftin, and with quads this massive, I'd bust out of anything else. We started our workout - that's what I loved about someone who fuckin "got it", no talkin and shit, just fuckin do it. Eric and I moved seamlessly from one weight stack to the next, the gym rats lookin on with jealousy at our mass. Heh, we flexed a bit extra after the set just to get em good and jealous. That's right, bitches! You ain't never gonna be this swole! I love the feeling of a great fuckin pump after a set - my veins were poppin all over! Yah, we grunted during sets, go ahead and look, that’s what fuckin liftin is all about. We got several stares on the tougher sets. The attention wasn't going unnoticed by my cock either, and the spandex shorts weren’t doing much to hide it. Fuck why should it? Fuckin alpha with all these betas around, let em see what a real man's cock looks like. As we neared the end of the workout, the pump was so fuckin incredible! I looked twice my size, which is fuckin sayin something. Shit, I was bigger than Eric hahah! "Fuckin alpha, little man!" He punched me in my delt. It was so pumped, full of blood, his fist just bounced off, "Fucker! I dunno how you got so fuckin big so quick." "I just fuckin told ya! I'm fuckin alpha!" I flexed a pumped bi in his face to prove my point. Fuck this workout was intense! I know Arnold said that shit about the pump being like cummin' with a woman, and I always thought that was just him fuckin with people. But every set, every rep, was like pure sex. I get into place for the lift, I can feel my cock straining at full mast. I draw in a breath, feel the pre begin to flow. Rep one, rep two, stroke one, stroke two, slow it down, enjoy the stimulation. Feel the blood flowing inward. Last rep, last stroke, almost there......and....squeeze....one.....more......out, Fuck! The muscle orgasms, spent, and primed to get bigger - and I can't fuckin wait for the next set, to fuckin grow even bigger! Bodybuilding is sex. No girl ever got me off like this, or was this intense. Why wouldn't someone want to fuckin do this? Eric and I, fuckin sexed out of our minds, cocks bulging in our shorts, sat down for the last set of the workout, fuckin bicep curls. He gets through his set, boned out of his mind. His arms are so pumped it looks like they’re going to explode right out of his skin. God I love bodybuilding! You get to push yourself so fuckin far, and get to look like that as a result. I sit down, eagerly - I can’t wait to get my arms like that. So fuckin’ big. I start my set, losing myself to the orgasm. "I'm sorry, dude." I hear him, but I'm lost to the moment. Seven. Eight. Fuck yes! The muscle, the power, the size, the mass! Four! Three! Oh god, I can’t take it, the pain, the sex! Fuckin go! Two! Oh shit, my arms are on fire, my cock feels like I’m getting the best blow job ever. Gotta get that last fuckin one, last push, gotta cum. Last one, muscle completely burning, the pressure is so intense I can't even feel myself anymore. About to cum! One. More. Rep. Fuckin.......Done! I let out a long gasp of breath post climax. Fuck that felt......odd. I looked over at Eddie, then down at my prominent bulge. I've never been so embarrassed in all my life. Besides being so undressed while wearing 'clothes', I've never actually sported wood so....unmistakably, in public. I was so big, I couldn't hide. The effects of the workout made it hard to even move. I could barely lift a hand to my face. It was uncomfortable. Veins were straining all over my body. I really didn't like all the attention Eddie and I were getting. This wasn't me. I felt uncomfortable. I felt like I took up so much space. This wasn’t my old body, it was just weird, t couldn't even move right anymore. I wanted to crawl into the deepest, darkest hole I could and never come out. I couldn't believe what I'd just done. I hadn't actually let loose any bodily fluids thank god, but.... I closed my eyes and shuttered with disgust. I looked back at Eddie. "So. Um...I guess we're in this one together, then?"

The Edge - Part 4 - A Swoldier Awakens “I love the life of a musician but I live the life of a bodybuilder.” – Warren Cuccurullo "Holy shit! What happened to you!?" Eddie's overreacting voice woke me up. "Whatcha mean, brah?" I was talking from under heavy eyelids. "Brah?!? That's not good. You're tan....and...and you've got muscles!" "Yah? Well so do you." I sarcastically over gestured toward him. "But the difference is you didn't a few hours ago when I left." Eddie was confusing me now. What was he talking about, I'd always looked like this. I think. I really couldn't think too well, my mind was still clouded with my cold. "Brah, I just have a cold, I'm gettin' over it, I'll be fine." I felt a chill, shivered a bit. I looked down at my chest. Was I darker? "Brah, do I look more tan to you? I don't remember going to the salon." "You don't go to tanning salons! And yes, you're darker!" Eddie seemed really scared, “That means next you're going to turn into something like this!” He gestured his massive arms down to his equally massive body. “You’re gonna grow huge muscles-“ he flexed into a double bi, “you’re arms’ll be as big as watermelons-“ the eyes and demeanor changed “and bro, fuck yeah!, I’m gonna have a fuckin’ workout partner!" "Wha-" I choked on the words as I felt something very odd. It started in the pit of my stomach, like every muscle in my torso flexing hard, involuntarily. I wanted to puke. Then, a warmth started building, and spreading rapidly. I was terrified, paired with the warmth was the feeling of blood rushing everywhere, expanding what I guessed were my muscles. Simultaneously. As I sat there clutching my increasingly defined stomach, delts shot out, my back flew wide as I got lats that looked like a cobra's hood. My back, paired with an instantaneous growth of biceps and triceps to massive proportions forced me to lose my grip on my cobblestone abs. I looked down, my abs carved deep, but bowing out - the beginnings of a roid gut. My belly button was an outie now. There was just too much muscle. It felt so weird, my body hard and huge, bulging everywhere, restricting movement in strange places. My quads were so big, the bones in my upper thigh moved in my hip joint to accommodate the new way I'd have to walk. I looked down through the pain and saw my skin, now completely smooth, take on the appearance of paper as veins snaked their way through the newly grown muscle. I turned a deeper tan as the instant growth stopped. I took in a breath - that was weird. I could feel my back expand, the lats pushing my arms out away from my body as they crowded for room. I felt a pull forward and looked down. I couldn’t see very far due to my pecs jutting out. I reached an arm out to feel my chest and confirm what my mind was telling me, but as my enormous bi’s bunched, I realized I couldn’t bend my arm as far. Just too much muscle. As I brought my hand up to my chest, I realized I’d never be able to stand cross armed again. Again, I was just too massive. All of it muscle, all of it bulging, all of it flexing with just the littlest motion. As I steadied myself on my tree trunk quads - they actually touched now - I felt my cock push forward on display. Judging from the sensation, I’d grown there too. And I was getting hard? Were the muscles actually turning me on? That was just too weird. I just had a microsecond to run through all of that in my head when something else happened. As I felt my skin stretch and my mass grow until I was impossibly heavy, I noticed my head clear. My mind cleared. Completely. There wasn't anything there - no thought. I looked over as Eric looked on like a drooling dog waiting for scraps. He knew he’d have his workout partner real soon. I was fighting a loosing battle with my mind. I was reciting facts - history, math, anything - just to try to keep it in my head, but it was like a sieve. Everything I could come up with disappeared into thin air just as fast, replaced with things like exercises that added the most mass to my mammoth chest, How many grams of protein I needed for the day to grow just the right amount of muscle to get contest ready. It was confusing at first, things I knew I should know - math, history, science - not there anymore, almost like it was just beneath the surface but I couldn't quite get to it to recall. I fought, trying to remember any part of a multiplication table - what's multipl- mulitplic- aw hell, I know that three plates on a bar is 315 pounds, and that's my warm up bench! I flexed my pecs as I looked down with a goofy, empty smile. I couldn't see beyond the shelf, but the deep crease between the two massive slabs of muscle was enough to get me going. I saw the massive veins that had appeared, just like the ones on my arms. Shit I was like a kid in a candy shop! My arms were enormous, and I could still feel my quads jockeying for space, throwing my cock front and center. It'd taken a fuckton of squats to get that much sweep, but fuck, it was worth it. Everything was just so much simpler like this. Standing here, blissfully bulging everywhere. Just heavy muscle, and how to build it bigger. It was kinda nice. I thought of my advanced Calculus class that morning, only to realize my bi’s needed some more fuckin’ size on them. I mean, come on, they’re only 22 inches, and Eric’s are even bigger than that. If I’m gonna be a fuckin’ IFBB pro, I gotta get with the program. I stood up, and flexed a double bi, the tatters of my shirt falling off me. As I set my quads in, the shorts I’d been wearing ripped. Through my briefs, my dick was straining the fabric. It was fuckin’ huge, just like the rest of me. I grinned as the testosterone flowed in me. My sheer mass was so heavy I could feel every bit of it on my frame. Every movement just reinforced how big and heavy I was. I was alpha as fuck. Hell, I could probably make myself cum without even touching my rod if I was in front of the mirror. I hadn't had a hard on like this since high school. Just like everything else about me, it was hard as steel. I was all about the girls then, but now, my cock called to something else. Muscle. Sex. Build muscle. Get laid. I need to lift. I need to fuck. I fuckin need to lift. I looked over at Eric, just as hard as I was, and in my new baritone voice, “Yo bro! Ya workout partner’s HERE!” I hit a most muscular, veins popping out all over me. Like a fuckin’ roadmap, now THAT’S vascularity son! The power of all that mass is intoxicating. Best drug in the world. “Now let’s go fuckin LIFT!”

The Edge - Part 3 - Sick Abs “Start wide, expand further, and never look back.” – Arnold Schwarzenegger Over the next week, Eddie grew considerably. I'd gone with him to the gym a few more times, but over the past few days I'd started getting the sniffles. Probably caught whatever Eddie had despite my vitamin protocol. From what I could piece together, everyday, "dumb Eddie" would emerge, dress in the most revealing workout attire he could, then disappear for a few hours. After the workout was over, "regular Eddie" would come back, lamenting the fact that he was seen in public in his 'condition’. “Dumb Eddie” also made other shows, usually around meal times, and at other random times. Eddie really didn’t know what brought the lug out, except the obvious gym and relating things. I was in the middle of a sneezing fit when Eddie walked in. It must have been gym time, judging by the way he was (not?) dressed. "Fuck, bro, it is time to Get! It! In! You pussying out again today?" He kept flexing his chest, feeling himself up, then getting distracted by his enormous arms, going into a personal flexing show just for himself. It seemed that this Eddie never could keep his hands off himself. It weirded me out just a little. "Um...yah," I got out between sniffles. "I'm just too sick, Eddie. Maybe tomorrow." "I feel ya, bro. Gotta get you back into the gym, though. We gotta add size to that puny little bod of yours. Getcha guns like these cannons! BOOM!”, he accentuated the sound with a bicep flex in my face. The vein running across the top just looked weird to me. "Oh, and I been thinkin. Call me Eric, I think it suits me a bit better than 'Eddie'. That just sounds like some weak-ass little punk. I'm fuckin ERIC!" He punctuated the name with a huge, wide, double bicep pose. "Um. Ok. Eric," little more weirded out by that, but whatever. "Cool, bro!" He gave one of those jocky smiles that hinted there wasn't too much going on upstairs. He turned to leave, "Bet you'll be feeling better soon, though, you're looking a lot more tan lately. Later!" I sank back into my chair, reading over some chem class work. I was having a hard time concentrating due to the stuffiness in my head. I got up to get some hot tea, and as I passed by the mirror, my reflection caught my eye. Maybe 'Eric' was right. I did seem to have a bit more color than I had the past few days. I got back to my chair and pulled out my laptop. I checked my email, and the first message that popped up was one of those "fat burners" that the doctors on daytime tv are always talking about. Complete garbage, I'm sure. The guy model in the ad looked about my age, just really cut. It wasn't a bad look. I looked down at my own arms and saw a few veins just hiding under my skin. The time with Eric in the gym must be paying off a little. I guess losing a little weight and putting on a little bit of muscle wasn't a bad trade off for trying to comfort a friend. I went over to the mirror, and took off my shirt. A hint of abs were showing through my stomach. My shoulders might be a bit more defined. I s'pose a few more side lat raises the next time I worked out with Eric wouldn't hurt. I flexed a double bicep, imitating the pose Eric did before he left - laughably small if Eric were standing next to me. The sacrifice and dedication to get that big was definitely impressive. I'd never get that big though, it’s just so much that it’s really gross. I flexed my six-pack, hints of veins crawling over them. Each ab defined with a hard line separation. A lot of time went into those. Meticulous meal planning. And the cardio! It was worth it, though. I sneezed again. Sniffling, I looked in the mirror at my chest, nicely lean, hard and defined. I loved how it just barely showed when I wore a t-shirt. Just enough to look like I worked out, but not enough to be showy. It was always fun when I was at the beach though. Shirt and shorts, and I looked like a regular guy, but when the shirt came off, defined chest shoulders and arms, perfectly lean, leading to my 8-pack and Adonis belt. No brah on the beach could touch me. I sniffled, feeling groggy from the tea, and decided to take a nap. I flashed my million dollar smile at the mirror again, popped my pecs and went to lay down.

The Edge - Part 2 - It'll All Workout “It's a guy thing really means There's no rational thought pattern connected with it and you can't make it logical.” – Nikhil Saluja My brain imploded. That’s all I can think to say. I leave my apartment, my roommate is…well… my roommate. I come back to a surfer beach boy calling himself my roommate who then spasms into one of the biggest bodybuilders I’ve ever seen in my life. I looked the behemoth over. Delts impossibly wide, as the veins traced over biceps the size of footballs. They had to be at least 22 inches. His chest was huge and piled with so much mass that his nipples were pointing straight down to the floor. As he looked at me anticipating an answer, one of them involuntarily bounced. The impossible cleft between his pecs led down to a gnarly 8 pack of concentrated muscle. It didn’t stick out quite as much as a roid gut, but it was enough to give a slight curving convex protrusion to his torso. Veins snaked out around the cobblestones framing a bellybutton that was just slightly now an outie. He spasmed again, and this time I heard Eddie’s voice “Dude, what’s happening to me?” I was too dumbfounded to speak as he sat up and took stock of what was now the body he inhabited. A look of utter horror and concern swept over his face. “No. No, no, no. I don’t want to look like this!” he screamed as he lifted up his arms, looking himself over. The very act causing his biceps to bunch up and flex without him even meaning to. He was now quite simply a mountain of muscle. Hardly any fat, around 5’ 11” and easily 280 pounds. My roommate was an alpha male by definition, in fact I’d say he was _the_ alpha male. I walked over to his hulkish form. “Dude, I don’t know how long I’ll be ‘me’ this time,” there was a look of genuine concern and fear in his eyes. “This started right around finals, I kept getting darker, like I was getting a tan, and I started getting muscle, Real muscle.” Eddie was gushing at this point, like his life depended on it. “It’s ok, slow down.” I was trying to offer comfort, but wasn’t really sure how to do that in this specific situation. “You know, most guys wouldn’t mind that so much.” “It wasn’t just the muscles and the tan, though,” he was calming down just slightly, “‘I’ was different. I’m mean I still knew who I was, who you were, that stuff, but I didn’t know anything about my education, or anything else. All I knew was working out and trying to get fit.” I wanted to help him, but this sounded just a bit too strange to me. Of course I did just see my formerly frail, thin roommate hulk out into a beast that any supplement company would hire on the spot. He looked down at himself again, “And whatever I just turned into, he only knows how to lift, eat like a motherfucker, and get fuckin’ HUGE, Bro! You ready?” Eddie’s voice morphed into the cocky baritone that shook me to my core. “And who are you?” I asked rather timidly in front of this muscle god. “Fuckin’ A, bro, I’m Eddie, I just told you what happened!” the inquisitive eyes and hair were still his, but he’d be replaced with this brute. “Now let’s cut the shit and fuckin LIFT!” he raised a double-bi and smiled a cocky grin to drive home his point. I looked at the man, shirtless, and with the tatters of what I assume were board shorts over his immense legs. “Eddie, you’re not a bodybuilder, you don’t know the difference between a barbell and a dumbbell. You’re an engineer!” “A fuckin’ In-Gin- what?” he looked confused, “Bro, the only thing I know is liftin’ and growin’, and I’m gettin’ ready to go do both!’ He bounded out of the door. I was a bit confused, still, but I figured I couldn’t let whoever Eddie had become out on the town by himself, so I chased after. Neither one of us had a gym membership….anywhere, so we went down to the local recreation center where they had some minimal weight equipment. We paid the day pass - with the security guard staring at Eddie with eyes as big as pies. Eddie noticed and flexed an arm at the guy with a cocky grin as he walked past. I’d managed to convince Eddie to go buy some workout clothing before we went to the center. I really think he would have just worked out naked, but we found a tank top that he could get over his mountains of a chest, and some shorts that he could work out in. The shorts were lycra, simply because he couldn’t fit his thighs into anything that didn’t stretch, and as he said “I’m gonna fuckin’ squat, and I ain’t chafin’!" We stepped into the weight area. There were your basic stereotypes - the gym rat either in high school or just out that was wearing a sleeveless shirt on his too thin frame. The 50 year old ex athlete that was desperately trying to stay in shape. And the group of athletes that were just there to flex in the mirrors and try to get enough of a pump to go pick up girls at some mall. Eddie went and grabbed a towel, and started in on his arms, like he’d been doing it all his life. I grabbed a towel and walked up behind him. “How do you know what to do?” “Bro, I been doing this my whole life. How the fuck you think I got this body?” His eyes didn’t even register me. He was so into his set. He kept pounding out rep after rep after rep. He got toward the end and accentuated each pump of his huge arms with a grunt. The final few he grunted so loud a couple of the teens looked over his way. The final rep done, he put the dumbbells down and flexed a double bicep pose. “Fuck yes! These weights are too light though. I’m used to heavier.” I was a little confused since Eddie had never lifted a weight in his life, but I wasn’t going to argue with whoever this was that my roommate had turned into. We moved from station to station, Eddie growing with the pump of working out at each station. The teens looking on in awe and usually going to the station we’d just left to try to imitate the last exercise Eddie did. After each set, he’d get this blissful look on his face, it was odd - like he was enjoying lifting. Really enjoying it - like need a cigarette afterwards enjoying it. The weight room was dirty, I thought. No cleaning spray, and Eddie wasn’t a great practitioner of gym etiquette. He sweated like a pig, and as big as he was now, that was a lot of sweat, and would just walk off from one station to another without wiping it down. To be fair, it didn’t look like a whole lot of people paid attention to hygiene here, so I just let it go. We finally ended at a power rack set up for a bench press. I sat my towel on the ground next to it as I walked up to help Eddie load the bar. He sneezed, wiped his face, then draped his towel over the stop bars set up to catch the barbell if he accidentally dropped it. “Alright, fuck this is the most weight I’ve ever tried. Gotta do it to get these slabs growin’!” He hit his pecs with his fists, a hollow thud emanating. “I need you to spot me, bro.” He laid down on the bench. “That’s at least 415 pounds on that bar! How exactly am I supposed to ‘spot’ you with that!” He didn’t hear me, or at least didn’t acknowledge, and lay down on the bench. With a significant amount of grunting and posturing, he positioned his hands deliberately on the bar, somehow, and got ready. He pushed up, the bar raised and the first 4 or 5 reps looked good. The 6th was a little shaky. “Dude, that’s enough.” The 7th was really shaky. “Seriously, put it up, rack or whatever it is you call it.” The 8th went down…and came back up half way….and stalled. Eddie grunted, then yelled. I tried my best to help him, but the bar was way out of my league, I had no hope of helping him. It dropped an inch, Eddie caught it. I pulled as hard as I could up, and somehow we got it back in its resting point. “Fuck, bro! What the fuck was that! I told you to spot me!” “And I told you, I couldn’t lift weight anywhere near that much!” I yelled back as I picked my towel off the stop bar and wiped my face down. Eddie sniffed a bit and sneezed. “Fuck, bro, I need ya to get with the program, get some size on ya. You’re so wimpy!” He looked around and sneezed again. “Hand me my towel, bro, I can’t get rid of this damn cold.” I was in the middle of wiping the plethora of sweat off my face when I looked and saw my towel on the floor where I'd left it. "Ew! Here it is!" I threw Eddie his towel, "and thanks to you, I'm probably going to get sick now, too." "Don't be such a wuss,” his face contorted, "Oh god! why did you let me get these shorts! As if the body weren't showy enough!" "It's what you wanted." "I told you, it's not me that wants this crap. I just want to go back to normal." He looked exhausted and a bit confused. "Can we just go home, a gym just really isn't my kind of place." "I need to stop by the store on the way, pick up some Vitamin C. I'm not catching whatever it is you have." We got up and walked out. I went to go wipe up the sweat and god knows what else Eddie had left on the bench, but before I could get back to it, the teens had already started taking turns on it, trying to push the weight Eddie had done. I'll never understand why anyone would want to look like a bodybuilder.

The Edge - Part 1 - A Strong Brew “Transformation of a person starts from the inside. If successful it starts to show on the outside.” – Unknown It really was just one of those normal days. Eddie and I were in the local coffee shop, a small one just down the street from our apartment. It was right in the middle of finals season, and both of us had just one left before we could drop the shackles of Academia and embrace the hedonistic pleasures of summer. Eddie was an Engineering major, and had pretty much disappeared for most of the school year, buried in books, but it had paid off in grades. “You know, I should be back studying right now,” he tapped my shoulder as we were in line waiting to order. “Look, if you don’t come out of your room sometime, you’re gonna turn transparent! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as pale as you.” I looked him up and down, “Repeat after me, ‘sunshine is our friend!’”. “There is such a thing as too much,” he offered back, “for instance -“. He gestured to the guy standing in line in front of us ordering what I think I overheard as a ‘pre-workout caffeine shot’. Eddie had me there. I’d heard on the radio there was a bodybuilding competition in town being held in the old civic auditorium just near campus. This guy had obviously just come from there. He was covered from head to toe in the darkest fake tan I’d ever seen. His hair, short and spiked, was brown, but against his skin color, it almost looked blond. Veins were shooting over every possible nook and cranny of his well defined and huge body. The muscles poking out of his tank top and shorts had such definition highlighted by so much posing oil, he practically looked like he was sweating the stuff. “Why would anyone want to do that to themselves?”, Eddie muttered to himself under his breath. I wondered the same thing. The guy was so big it looked painful. He was having trouble reaching into the back pocket of his shorts to get his wallet; his back and triceps were just too big that they were squeezing impossibly against each other. “I don’t know, dude” I whispered back, as the bodybuilder turned…and sneezed…on Eddie. “Really, dude?!?” Eddie half shouted at the guy who just sneezed on him, but was easily four times his size. “Bro! I’m so sorry!” the guy, looked genuinely concerned. He reached out with a napkin to wipe Eddie off. Watching him, I idly wondered if he could actually cross his arms in front of his chest. “Bro, look I’m really really sorry. Let me pay for your drink or something” Eddie kind of looked like a wet dog - thin, pale, and ruffled from the incident. He sighed “Nah, man, it’s ok. No harm done.” “You sure, bro?” “Yah, I’m fine. Thanks.” The bodybuilder lumbered out of the shop, with that ‘bodybuilder waddle’ they get when their thighs are too big to walk like a normal person. “Really, what possesses a person to get like that? Fit is one thing, but That - that’s just…just…gross,” I heard Eddie as he finished wiping himself down and ordered his coffee. The next few days were a whirlwind - the ‘final finals’, a week of summer fun, and then back for the summer session. Eddie had convinced me to join him in trying to finish earning a degree a year early. I really wasn’t a fan of the idea, but like he said, the summer course load wouldn’t be as much as the normal semester’s, and we’d still have time to have fun around town. I hadn’t seen him since the last days of finals. He’d stayed at the apartment during the week off, kept saying he didn’t feel well, and thought he was coming down with something. I walked up to our front door, refreshed from a week of partying, the door flew open as I reached out from the handle. “Bro! Like welcome home!” a stranger welcomed me to my own apartment. “Um. .. Thanks?” I managed to get out while looking at the fitness model that was now in my apartment. The guy didn’t have a shirt and appeared very toned, kind of like those physique competitors in bodybuilding shows. He had a good tan, decent muscle, but not overdone, and was wearing board shorts. “Been waitin’ for you to get back a while, bro!” the guys excitement seemed a little out of place to me. I cautiously walked in, “that’s nice who are you?” I blundered out in almost one word. “Braaahhh! A joker here, I’m ya roommate, duh.” As he moved his muscles flexed involuntarily. His mouth hanging open like a permanent mouth breather with a dopy grin. I’d had enough, “Ok, where’s Eddie?”. “Here, bro”, was the instant reply. “No, where’s my roommate who is also named Eddie?” I thought a different tactic might help. “Bro, I’m right- Unghhhh” He was cut short as every muscle appeared to tense at one time. I rushed over to the strange built surfer dude. “Whoa, you ok?” I bent down and looked at the guy’s face. It was twisted in pain. “It’s me.” he got out through spasms, “something’s happened.” I looked right at him. The eyes were familiar, the black mop of unkempt hair, even the voice had a familiarity to it. “E- Eddie?” “It’s me - gaaahhhh!” another set of spasms hit my formerly small roommate. These were different. He started grunting and yelling, almost roaring as he began to get bigger? “Something’s happened - I’m not me- raaaAAHHH!" I jumped away as he roared. He was growing! There wasn’t any denying it now. When I got home, the fitness model that greeted me may have been 170 pounds. That ‘boy’ was gone now as he just seemed to swell all over. Almost instantly, he looked up, a cocky smirk on his chiseled face. “Hey bro, I gotta get a fuckin’ lift in, wanna go?” the bovine voice reverberated.